Although I can recall my first jaunt like it was yesterday, spring 1990, it wasn't until 2004 that running became something verging on obsession. Life has changed immeasurably since that inaugural step; yet I still welcome that carnival of pain, loving each and every stride.

Friday, June 3

With a lacklustre Giro wrapped up for another year, and the Canucks in the Stanley Cup Finals I’m now living vicariously through an entirely different breed of athletes. That is not to suggest that I haven’t been able to whet my own appetite in the athletic arena.

A few weeks ago I had the distinct pleasure of swimming my way through the Oak Bay Half Marathon. Now, as I live on the edge of the Pacific I’ve become accustomed to precipitation in all its forms. But despite this experience, I can’t recall ever being that drenched in a race. Ever.

I knew heading into the event that my fitness was building and consequently didn’t have high expectations. Based on my recent 10k, and with minimal tempo/long runs I envisioned a drawn-out 1h21. Considering I had to walk at 14k, I’m quite pleased with my 1h22, albeit my slowest half since 1999.

With Oak Bay wrapped up and my flats dry, my focus for the next two months has significantly shifted as I attempt my first triathlon in 12 years. I’ve been batting the idea around for a couple years but with Ally pregnant in ‘09, and the birth of child #2 in ‘10 the timing wasn’t ideal. It wasn’t until nattering with Rumon a few months back that I realized waiting on the sideline isn’t nearly as fun as participation, regardless of one’s conditioning. A few weeks later, with a program taped to the fridge and my commuting mule tuned-up ($500), all that was left was to jump back into the pool.

And so it was, last Thursday I tentatively slipped into the shallow end, ducked under the surface and pushed off the wall taking that opening stroke with nothing but possibility and 25m of water in front of me. I managed to dogpaddle through my first w/o in over a decade, and as my 50s gradually ebbed from 40” toward 50”, I exited the pool, twilight overhead and a smile on my face. Everything hurt.